#mondern

[eromai]

Metal in Dallas Large modern gray three-story metal and board and batten exterior home idea with a metal roof and a gray roof

[reward-services]

Today we are discussing the role of consumer awareness in an ever-expanding socio-technologically driven marketplace.

[inkbybambi]

bodyguard!simon riley who takes a bullet for you —

words: 2.9k rating: e warnings: nightmares, guns/shooting, gunshot wound, hospitals, smut, creampie, cunnilingus, mentions of threats against reader, threat against reader, lowercase writing — please let me know if i missed any! notes: 18+ content, minors dni. warnings have been provided.

He's been assigned to you for two-ish years now. You weren't thrilled at first, and neither was he — but he didn't make it as obvious as you did.

"I don't need a babysitter," you had damn-near hissed when he was introduced.

"I wasn't hired to be one," he counters coolly, which only serves to irritate you further.

Actively ignoring his presence — as much as you could when your company moved him into your apartment — even though you begrudgingly made room in the counters and fridge for his things, even going as far as investing into a better kettle so he could make his tea and clearing out an entire cabinet for all his tea, sugar, and steeper.

He trails you quietly as he was hired to; keeping close enough to always have you in his sights but far enough away that people wouldn't be able to clock his association to you — or so he thought.

Six months into his contract with you — an unknown amount of time left, as Price never answered and soon he stopped asking — he wakes in the middle of the night from a scream he never thought would come from you.

He rushes to your bedroom, gun in hand with his finger resting on the side — not the trigger. The front door is locked as he had left it, windows unbroken. He almost thinks he might've associated it with one of his own nightmares, until he sees you.

Curled in on yourself, face tucked into your knees, fingers threaded at the nape of your neck as you struggle to breathe properly, hiccups and sobs breaking between your stuttered breaths.

He knocks gently on your door, not wanting to startle you. You jump a little, regardless, but lift your head to look at him.

"'m sorry," you mumble, voice rough, "I didn't mean to wake you."

And you hadn't. You thought you were done with these awful nightmares, the ones gnawing at the edges of your mind during the day.

"'S'alright," he replies, tucking the gun into the waistband of his sleep shorts, walking carefully towards your bed. "You okay?"

The look he receives damn near breaks his heart.

He learns, that night, that an attempt had been made on your life before. More than once.

They never got close enough to do any harm, you say, but then swallow thickly and clutch your bicep where Simon sees a scar that he never took notice of previously. They didn't get close enough to do anything worse, you amend, chancing a look at him.

"I had security then, too," you explain, wiping your tears with your hand, playing with the blanket. "It didn't change anything."

Something shifts after that.

He starts cooking for you — with you, when there's time — and you bring him a cup of tea each morning. The bookshelf in the living room, previously only half-filled, collects Simon's books. You give him the login to all your streaming services, and ignore the pointed look he gives you when he sees some trashy reality tv show in your continue to watch queue.

He doesn't complain much when he stands behind you during an episode, arms crossed, asking a question here and there. You sigh, exasperated at having to explain everything, telling him to sit down as you start the series from the beginning.

Nine months into his contract, your nightmares become more frequent, and worse. You don't understand why. You were getting better, you cry in Simon's arms after a particularly rough night.

"Sometimes these things happen," he tells you softly, gently petting your hair, tucking you under his chin.

"Make them stop, please," you beg, even though you know he can't. he wishes he could.

He starts sleeping in your bed.

He's so warm, your cheek pressed into his chest, feeling more secure than you have in months when the weight of his thick, tattooed arm slings around your waist. He presses a kiss to your forehead at night, and you burrow into his side.

He starts taking the balaclava off at night.

A morning where you blessedly don't have to be up early, grey clouds hang in the sky, the promise of a storm later.

"G'mornin'," he says, voice rough with sleep, feeling him flex and stretch beneath you, groaning as his body relaxes. A flash of heat snaps through you.

"Morning," you reply, only half-awake, tilting your head up to drag your lips across his jaw, prickling with stubble.

He cradles the back of your head, fingers thick and comforting, tilting you back until his mouth slants over yours. He holds you so carefully, like glass, as his tongue slips into your mouth, hot and heavy.

The sheets rustle as he moves to lay over you, free arm resting by your head as your legs hook on his hips, trying to draw him closer to you.

He nips at your bottom lip as he rolls his hips, the heat of his cock through his boxers frazzling your brain. You mewl, his tongue back in your mouth, moving his hand to grip your waist and drag you up against him, moaning low in his throat when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties.

"Fuck," you breathe out as his mouth moves over your cheek, down your jaw, kissing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"Say please," he rumbles.

"Simon, please," you whine, fingers curling at the base of his skull and scratching, and he snarls against your skin, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck as he tears your panties off, pushing his boxers down enough to free his cock.

You're so wet for him, slick coating your thighs as he drags his cock through your folds.

He usually takes his time — using his fingers and tongue to open them up first, wanting to feel the wet heat of their cunt and the spurt of their release to know they're relaxed and ready for him. He eats pussy like he'll die if he doesn't, will happily spend hours between your legs if you let him.

But with you? He feels feral with need.

"It's big, sweet thing," he rasps into your skin, lips hovering over that sensitive spot on your neck that he sunk his teeth into earlier, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. He's not trying to brag, it's just a fact.

You claw at him, the sting of open scratches burning his skin so pleasantly.

"It's okay, don't care," you pant, gripping him hard enough to leave deep crescent marks in his skin, angling your hips up to draw him into your cunt yourself.

He grips your hips with both hands, slowly pushing his thick length into you, nails digging even deeper the more he pushes in.

"Feels so fucking good," he says, tongue laving over your throat to collect the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin. "Could fuck you forever," he groans, your breath hitching.

You make a strangled noise low in your throat. It's been awhile since you've fucked anyone, and you've never fucked anyone as big as him before.

The stretch feels so good, though. Your cunt clenches around him as he sinks in deeper, mind glazing over as you focus only on him.

"Fuck," he whines when he finally seats himself fully into you, nuzzling into your neck, overwhelmed by the heat and slick, "good fucking girl, taking me so well."

He swallows thickly, waiting a couple heartbeats to enjoy this — it's been awhile for him, too.

"Think you can take it, love?" and his fucking voice. You would agree to do anything as long as you could hear that rough accent along your throat, teeth skimming your skin.

"Yes," you breathe out harshly, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, needing him close, close, closer.

For a man of few words, Simon has a filthy mouth as he fucks into you, accompanied by groans and growls into your collar.

"Never had a cunt this perfect." "Fuckin' made for me." "Can't wait to get my tongue in you, feel you cum on my face." "No one else can have you." "You're mine."

And you, normally far more verbal than him, are reduced to nothing more than mewls and pleas and moans for more.

You mouth and nip at his jaw when you can, wanting to mark him, wanting to stake your claim. You'll be his forever if he lets you, but you'll be damned if anyone else gets to have him either.

"Simon — " is the only warning you give before you cum on his cock, head thrown back as you moan through the waves of pleasure, release coating his length and thighs.

"That's it, baby, good girl, give it to me," he says, blunt nails digging into your waist as he grinds himself deep into you. You feel so warm and pliant, the pleasure numbing your mind as he rocks himself into you.

"Wanna feel you give me one more, angel," he bites at your throat on the other side, his need to sink his teeth into every inch of your skin overwhelming. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, fucking into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and your toes curling.

You grip at him again, clawing as he fucks into you, the sound of your wet cunt taking each thrust creating a symphony with his groans and your cries. He feels so fucking good, splitting you open and making you whole, desperate for him to cum inside.

The way your nails dig into his shoulder is the sign that you're getting close, and he thrusts just a little harder, a little meaner, your cute whines growing more desperate as you walk the precipice of another orgasm.

No one's ever made you cum more than once — sometimes, not even once — and you've never been able to do it yourself either.

Simon? Fucks a second orgasm out of you like it's his life mission, ankles tightening around his neck as pleasure lines your veins, shaking as he continues to hit that spot inside you as you cum, prolonging it as much as he can.

"Baby — " he chokes out, sharp teeth on your shoulder, thrusts getting sloppy. The slick of your two releases sounds so loud in your bedroom, feeling the desperation as he thrusts, deeper, harder.

"Cum inside," you mumble against his cheek, nails scratching at the base of his skull as he thrusts once, twice, three times — the warmth of his release flooding your cunt.

He fists the sheets in one hand, nails dragging down your thigh as he pumps deep into you, your slick and his release seeping out of your hole, dripping down his balls and your asshole.

You stay like that, lips brushing, breathing in each other's air as you slowly come down from the high.

Simon gently — so gently — lowers your legs, carefully watching your face for any signs of discomfort, settling them on his hips, hands moving up and down your thighs. "Y'alright?" he asks. You swallow thickly and nod, both hands now at the base of his skull, affectionately scratching at the nape of his neck.

He slowly pulls out, and you miss the stretch and the warmth immediately. You push up on your elbows, watching as the mixture of your pleasure leaks out of you, biting you lip.

"Fuckin' beautiful," he says almost reverently, mesmerized.

He spends the next hour cleaning you up, and you think your nails create permanent marks on his shoulders.

Time bleeds together.

His contract renews on the twelfth month.

He heard rumors that Price might switch him out for another guard.

You're at the meeting — it's your bodyguard, after all, they figure you should get some input. Price has two separate folders prepared. A sharp look from Simon is all Price needed to know about how he feels. The tongue lashing you give your higher ups has Price raising his eyebrows, and Simon sits forward a little more should he need to haul you out over his shoulder.

He wouldn't mind that too much, he thinks, but he'd rather not.

Ten minutes later and you're angrily signing his renewal papers, a blotch of ink at the start of your name as you didn't even read the contract before signing, lungs burning from your rant about personal safety and what the fuck are you thinking and I didn't just buy an entirely new tea set for nothing.

You grip his wrist as soon as he signs himself, dragging him to the nearest bathroom.

His hand covers your mouth as he fucks you deep and slow.

"Don't worry, darling, 'm not going anywhere."

Eighteen months into his contract, and he's never felt so little control before in his life.

He's meticulous, prepared, tactile.

There's a gun in his holster for distance threats and a knife in his sheath for those who dare get too close.

He makes sure to memorize the exists before you even get to the venue, now making no effort to conceal himself.

He's like a shadow, or a guard dog.

You've never felt more secure, more protected.

Until —

He doesn't know how it slipped past him.

He let his eyes linger a little too long on the curve of your neck, where a new diamond pendant lay with his initial engraved on the back. He admires the dip of the dress you wear, open-back that shows the enticing expanse of your back, the dress covering you above the curve of your ass. You look back at him briefly while whomever you're with speaks, eyes sparkling in the bright light of the room, a smile reserved just for him.

He hears the cock of a hammer and his eyes snap to a gentleman who brandishes a gun like he's never held one before in his life. His eyes, though. His eyes are like fire, black with rage, staring at you with such hatred.

You look one second too late.

Simon is on you right after the click of the trigger, pushing you to the floor and caging you with his body.

"Stay down and don't fucking move," he growls as he reaches for his own weapon, up in a flash.

You can't hear anything except white noise and screams that sound muffled, heart pounding and making it hard to breathe. Two shots ring out, in tandem, and there's the telltale sign of a body hitting the floor.

Simon is by your side, eyes scanning, frantic, looking for any signs of harm.

"You okay?" he asks, carefully outstretching his hands to let you stop him from touching you should you want. you don't.

"Fine," your voice cracks, and you can't stop shaking.

"You're okay, you're okay," he says, cradling your cheeks, thumbs wiping under your eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry," he adds, guilt heavy in his chest.

You grab his wrists lightly, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look him over. You gasp, unable to catch a real breath, unable to look away from his stomach.

"Simon — " you say, horror laced in your voice.

He looks down, seeing the red seep through his shirt.

Fuck.

At least it wasn't you, he tells himself.

Nineteen months into his contract, and he isn't dead.

While he's been shot before — a fact he tells you, assuming it would comfort you, but only got him a venomous glare in return — it's been awhile.

The hospital, the stitches, the gauze and needles. He hated it then and he hates it now.

Price comes to you in the hospital — they're keeping Simon for a little, to make sure there's no complications with his healing — offering another guard in the interim while he recovers.

You've never shot down a proposal so quickly in your life. The nerve.

Twenty-two months into his contract, and the last of the moving boxes are taped shut and labeled. Some of them in your writing, the others in his. The keys to your new house are tucked into his pocket, alongside a black velvet box.

"Why do we have so much shit," you whine when packing, only two boxes deep and so many rooms left to go. You're too busy stuffing a manatee shaped steeper into a box — mana-tea, you giggled when he opened it, him rolling his eyes fondly in reply — and don't see him pause, looking at you softer, never hearing "we" before like that. Never dreaming he could hear it like that.

A lot of stalling on your part and encouragement on his, and the last box is packed and placed in the back of the truck.

He laces your fingers together as you drive to the new house, a bottle of champagne already chilled.

Twenty four months into his contract, and you come home with something hidden behind your back.

You smile like you have a secret, which would be a first.

It's awkward to bring around from your back, but there's a large German Shepard puppy wiggling in your grip, tail wagging furiously.

He feels his heart stop for a moment, unable to take his eyes off the puppy, and then the band that's sitting around your finger. He touches his own subconsciously.

You set the ball of fur down, who immediately launches at Simon, whining and wiggling and trying to give him kisses.

There's a collar and tag already there, and you watch with your heart beating faster than ever, unable to stop the smile on your lips, as he wrangles the pup enough to read it.

Riley.

[daily-borgia]

Exterior Metal (Dallas)

[slut4daviii]

character(s): i.hashibira

pt: 01/01

cw: phone sex, masturbating, voice kink, toys, overstimulation

summary: sleep, sometimes it was just so overrated.

a/n: fem-aligning | minors DO NOT INTERACT also, if anyone wants to request, imma make a masterlist inna a few hours.

title: a thump in the night

wc: 1200+

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“oh shit!” your voice trailed off, casually descending Inosuke’s walls, the mumbling of his own voice practically desensitized next to your hoarse, unwaveringly powerful tone.

he hissed out a groan, similar to you but much more needy. his fingers; index and thumb, came up to his pink nipples, rolling the bud between themselves. he let out an uncharacteristically soft moan, using his right hand to edge himself— stemming closer to his imminent orgasm

within his room, there was a soft humming noise, muted by the sound of your consciousness game noises, none of them being unfamiliarized to him. he heard the rapid gunfall, followed by hushed footsteps, then an unexpected burst of sound.

but what stuck out to Inosuke Hashibira was the sound of his own boyfriend. the way he would groan at each death, or suck in a quick breath to prepare himself to go around a corner, or even curse under each unprovoked breath.

another muffled moan left Inosuke, this time to the sound of you stretching. your voice was deep, almost lucrative in tone. and as each one of your joints popped, you would usher out a deeper more firm groan.

of course, in your case this wasn’t sexual by any measure. but Inosuke was a spectacle not too many people got to know. and for this reason.

you two had been dating for two years, and in that timespan, Inosuke had asked you to fulfill a few of his… fantasies.

the first being “[name]! oh [name]! I got an idea!” you should’ve left right there, but you didn’t, feeling obligated to listen to another one of your boyfriends dumb ideas. “you should fuck me!” was all he said. cut clean and dry, right? wrong. “you should handcuff my hands behind my back and wrap a collar around my neck!”

ok, not too unusual for him. it could be worse right?

“and do it while I’m hanging out of a window!”

you stopped, looking at him like he’d grown a second head. “what?”

expecting him to back down was the first of your mistakes, thinking that the muscular broad was going to back away from you. no, instead, he repeated his order request.

“you should handcuff me and fuck me while I’m hanging out that —he motioned to the window perched right in front of your door— “window with a collar around my neck, choking me and threaten to drop me!”

the word butchered into your mind, imagining what that would look like. it was pretty. but you shook your head. “Inosuke.” you started softly, “we live on the tenth floor.”

“I know! I know! it’ll make it more fun! and then people can see how good your dic—“ you placed your hand over his mouth.

“no.”

Inosuke whined against your hand, his eyes looking up at you full of lust and desire. “Inosuke, I’m not fucking you in a window.”

that was your second mistake. thinking that Inosuke would just take that. so, from that moment on, Inosuke would come up with a new idea everyday. each one more chaotic than the last.

and you would know, you kept a list in your phone. for education purposes obviously

WAYS AND PLACES TO FUCK INO-CHAN

hanging outside a window

in the middle of a mall

in front of his parents

(with tanjiro)

(with mr.tomioka)

(with mr.tengen)

(with mr.rengoku)

until he blacks-out (then keep going until he wakes back up)

when he’s doing laundry (specifically, he wants to get ‘stuck’ in the dryer and have me pound him until he’s came enough time to fill up a cup)

children’s playground

against a tree

on a train (let anyone join)

on a priest alter (on a sunday)

the produce aisle (so he can snack)

while playing the game

with a gun pointed at his head (NOT doing that)

gangbang with at least 10 people present, but only 5 have to join.

view 264+

Inosuke was a wild card, but who could blame him, whenever the two of you do fuck, he cums at least four times, making sure you do the same.

but right now, the —in his mind— greatest idea in the world had been bestowed upon him. phone sex

you were still playing your game, giving it your full attention, believing that Inosuke had fallen asleep several hours ago.

Inosuke on the other hand, pulled the vibrator from his hole, leaving it slightly agape, rapidly clenching around his any movement.

“[name]…” he called to you, the sound suppressed by a moan. “nhgm… [name]! I—I need you!”

your ear twitched, not knowing if you were a) hearing things, b) hearing your boyfriend, or c) hearing something from the game.

you took your headset off, it falling to your neck in one swift motion. you strained to hear the sound again, also looking for your phone. “where did I—“

“[name]! mgh!” slick sounds rang from the corner of your bed, followed by another row of heavy pants. “[name]… I wan’to see you!”

you finally found your phone, pulling it from under your blanket and stared at the sight blaring from your dimly-lit screen.

Inosuke, with his legs parted and fingers crossed into himself. he was blushing madly, sweat falling from every inch of his skin. “mghm! [name]! [name]! lemme— your cock! I wan’tsee your cock!”

you felt your pants swell at the intonation and words, he was panting heavily, lust practically dripping from every word that left his mouth. “In—“ you gulped back your words, fumbling to find the right ones. “I—Inosuke..”

the boy tilted his head back, the raspiness of your worn out voice hitting him like a truck “fughk! [n—name]! say again! talk t’me, please!”

again your cock grew, impatiently throbbing against the silk lining of your boxers. you didn’t know what to say, it was a bit of anomaly, usually Inosuke was the one speechless, bound and hanging by your every word, but now it was you.

“w—what do I say?”

Inosuke increased the speed of his hand, moving it along his length like the bullet of a shotgun. “an’thing! call m’slut! tell m’what yer gon’ do t’me!”

a flash of heat hit you, making you sharply inhale. you brought your hand behind you, finding your chair and sitting down. you pulled at the waist of your sweatpants, yanking your boxers off.

like a reanimated corpse, your dick sprang upwards, bobbing against your abdomen. by this point, Inosuke had noticed your quiet nature, thinking you went back to your game and tilted his head to look at his phone. it was perched up against something you couldn’t see, but when the two of you made eye contact, he came. his hole rapidly clenching then unclenching.

you propped your phone against your controller, moving quickly back to your painfully hard erection. you curled your fingers around your throbbing length and began tugging, feeling. like you could cum at any moment. “Ino, I need your voice. c’mon, talk to me.”

Inosuke shuddered, never moving from his revealing position. he looked at you through lidded eyes, watching as your hand traveled teasingly slow up and down your thick shaft, muzzling the tip in a full 360 spin before repeating.

“mgh! I want that! want daddy to fill m’up! wanna—“ he fell back panting, this stimulation from his screen too much. “want you in m’stomach. playing w’my organs. wanna clench around your big fat cock.”

Inosuke’s were only jumbled mumbles now, barely audible. but from what you could hear, you loved it, moving you hand faster, adding spin occasionally. it felt like your tip was on fire, begging to be released.

“c’mon babyboy, what’s my name?” you asked, your cum tickling up the middle of your shaft.

“d—daddy.” he mumbled, cock twitching with rigor. “you—you’re ngh! daddy!”

“oh yeah.” you croaked, your cock teetering on Inosuke’s every word. “say it again, cum for me, please.”

the word please made Inosuke weak in the knees, moving his three unused fingers to his empty hole and plunging them deep. he let out a string of moans, the sound instantly going to your cock.

“fu—“ you bit the insides of your cheek to suppress your moan, but the pleasure was too much— overpowering your body. “fughk! fuck! Ino-chan! haah! hah…” your orgasm maneuvered through your every vein, stars dancing within your blood vessels.

Inosuke was close, relentlessly thrusting his fingers into his hole “close! clo—“ his orgasm spoke faster, ripping forth from his slit, spraying thick, milky white ropes of semen all over himself. “ngkh! mgumh! fuhgck!” he seethed, the feeling too much.

another round of semen shot from him, this one not as powerful but just as plentiful, coating his chiseled abdomen and pubic hair, slowly trailing to his hole, outlining it in a temptation too strong to resist.

you picked up your phone and spoke with haste, “I’m coming over.”

assembling your things, you went straight to your bedroom door, hearing the click of a knob before a voice brought you to a screeching halt.

“[name], what the fuck was that?!”

your online friends, all clamoring over the sounds they’d just heard.

“fuck, you don’t know what you do to me, Inosuke.”

without another glance, you left your friends, blushing and talking amongst themselves about how you were masturbating.

“but… why was it hot—“ one said, earning a loud disturbance from the other two.

“SHUT UP!!”

[batcavescolony]

Nico Di Angelo was born around 1932. the beginning of WW2 was 1939, this is probably about when he came to the USA. Do you know what else happened in 1939? Detective Comics #27, now you're probably wondering 'batcaves why does this random comic matter?' It's matters because that comic is the introduction of Detective Comics newest story, following the adventures of 'The Bat-Man'. It is fully possible for 7 year old Nico DiAngelo to have read the first few issues of Batman comics, do with this what you will.

[virq-qgo]

Listen before I go// Simon (Ghost) Riley

Reader kinda sounds like a wattpad (y/n)- listen I tried to make the reader not sound so stupid but- y’all I’m flabbergasted from how wattpadish this sounds 😭

Pt.2

Warnings: ooc ghost, reader kins (y/n) wattpad. Reader is referred as “you” but use’s she/her pronouns, angst, my writing, character death? Violence, love confessions? Oh, and no editing :))) 🫶❤️

Angst below the cut

“I’m in love with you.” Who knew those five words could’ve brought you so much pain. You were so sure that Simon had returned those same exact feelings. Or why else would he be so kind and heartwarming to you yet stone cold to anyone else.

A trickle of blood escapes your lip as you chuckle. God you hated yourself for confessing to him, otherwise he would’ve still been here and would’ve helped this hidden ambush. But he wasn’t, and you couldn’t take out an army of men all by yourself. But you’ve managed to escape, with a few bullet wounds to say to the least.

And now you were here, sitting against a gratified broke wall bleeding to death. Remembering that you had previously turned off your intercom, you turn it back on. You hear your name being called countless of times, asking for your whereabouts or your status. But with your head being so fuzzy, you don’t know if you talk even if you tried.

“She’s fine guys, I was with her last.” You hear ghosts voice through the little radio. Both of your definitions of fine were different, his was if you got shot you’ll be fine, just a little wound. But yours, well you weren’t really sure. It was more than a gunshot wound, that was for sure.

“What is your status? We’re going to be heading back on the plane shortly.” Prices asks, you can tell he was getting a little impatient.

You cough, more blood running down your dry lips. “Don’t think I’ll make it this flight. Can I catch it later?”

“What are you talking about?” It was now soap talking. “Where are you? We’ll come to find you.”

The line goes silent before you hears ghosts voice once more, this time in more of a panic.

“There’s blood everywhere. Hopefully it’s from these men you’ve slaughter (name).”

“Yeah, you could say that. Say, Simon you wanna make me a promise?”

“A promise?” He seems confused, you noted.

“Don’t blame yourself okay?”

He stays silent, almost hesitant for his next choice of words. It was almost as if he didn’t believe you. “What’s your surroundings?”

“You’re not going to make it in time Simon. It’ll be too late by then.”

“What is she talking about Ghost?” Price asks. To be honest, you totally forgot all about the other four.

But Simon doesn’t respond. His hearts racing, there was too much blood, too many footsteps to even count. And your empty gun.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ghost hisses, “I’ve could’ve help you!”

You flinch at how loud he was. Who knew that a little radio could pick up the sound of anger in a persons voice. “Could you not bitch at me, I don’t need it right now.”

“When I find you it’s going to be more than being bitched at, (code name).”

Ouch, he must be pissed off if he was bringing out your code name. A sigh leaves your lips as you bring you hand to your face, wiping off the blood the kept dripping from your lip. He wasn’t going to find you in time, it wasn’t like you cared. It was going to save you from the future embarrassment of him seeing you in such a weak state and right after you confessed to him.

“Again, that is if you make it in time.”

Simon growls, “can you stop fucking saying that like you’re going to die?”

“You never know, I’ve been out here for awhile now. Never know if some animal is going to eat me for dinner.”

“Well aren’t you in luck, don’t think you’d be a subtle appetite to them.”

“Fucking hell,” you mumble. Your eyes were drooping from all of the blood that you loss. You were dying and you could really feel it now. “I’m by an old building. Not far from where you’re at, just keep going straight until you find a broken down wall with graffiti covering it.”

Simons end of the line was silent, but you assumed so. He was going to try to search for you all by himself because that’s what he does. If it didn’t hurt to chuckle, you would have. Cause it certainly didn’t take him too long to find you. You see the all to well know mask running towards you.

“Hey Simon,” you barely speak into the speaker, “I meant every word I’ve said.” Your hand falls to your side and your eyes roll back. You’ve done your best trying to keep your body going, but every has their weaknesses. Just as your eyes droop shut, Simon screams out your name.

There weren’t any moments where Simon feared life anymore. He lived through all terrifying moments of his life but nothing compared seeing your weak unconscious body. Simon could only run faster, hoping that he could beat death itself.

The man couldn’t afford to loose you, especially when he has something to confess too. God, his self hatred only grew when he turned you down harshly. Truth was, he was just scared. Scared that this was all of some sick joke one of the boys dared you to do. Scared that if he confessed right back, you’d laugh straight in his face and tell him you’d never feel the same way. But now that it hits him, you would never do that. You were too kind, and would never hurt him even if that meant hurting yourself.

“C’mon.” He whispers, his hands are on your shoulders. But when Simon pulls back to examine your body he wanted to puke. There was so much blood, he wondered how you could’ve even possibly walked a far or a distance and stayed on the line while waiting for him.

“Get the plane here now!” Simon yells into the radio, “I found (code name) but she’s unconscious!”

“Rodger that.” A voice responds, Simon doesn’t know who’s it is was but he frankly doesn’t care. He wanted you to wake up so he can tell you that he loves you. So he could tell you that he didn’t hate you, he was just lying.

After what felt like hours of requesting for the plane it finally came. Simon carefully lifted you up into his arms and boarded the plane. He ignored the worried looks of his teammates and gently laid you down on the cot so the medic’s could immediately get to work. Soap placed a hand on the man's shoulder and attempted to pull him away from the scene. 

 

“Ghost,” Soap called out, his grip was getting a little tighter. “Come on, let them have their space.”

 

But Simon didn’t respond, he was stiffer than a board. He feared that if he were to leave you behind once again, you wouldn’t make it. 

 

“You’ll get to see her once they save her, okay?”

 

“What if they don’t?” 

 

Soap stays silent, watching over the girl too. His hand still on Simon’s shoulder. “Give her hope, it takes more than a few gunshot wounds to take her down. Just give’er a few days and she’ll be back up and bouncing.” 

 

“I hope you’re right.”

[attico36]

One Shot & Billboard Italia Digital Cover Artwork x One Shot Playground Playlist Saturday 8 June 2024, Circolo Magnolia, Milan.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

A Graves x Reader x Ghost Love Triangle

As Shadow Company’s second in command, you’ve seen firsthand the kind of man Graves could be, including the kind of man he wanted to be for you. It was a game you two unknowingly played, one that would surely not end well. A quick distraction meant to tame your busy souls. Warm bodies to lie with. Anything other than that was pure fantasy, though you two couldn’t help dreaming...

Future NSFW 18+, Future Angst, Pre-MW2 Events, Fluff, Flirting, Teasing, First Kiss, Romance, Drama, Build-up, Implied FWB, Make-Out Session, Shadow Company!Reader

WC ~ 2k

AO3 Link | Masterlist

A/N (2024): Made a few minor grammatical fixes and touched up some of the sentences that weren't making sense. Hopefully, this reads a lot stronger now! ^.~

A/N: I have never posted on Tumblr like this before; I’m a grade A lurker. But I’m obsessed with this for whatever reason, so now you’re being subjected to my writing. This is chapter one to a longer story that’ll be posted on AO3. Sorry if the characters feel OOC, I’m trying my best with what we got. Please enjoy! (T^T)>

Phillip Graves was as much of an enigma as the rest of the men in Shadow Company.

He could be many things when asked: Confident and self-assured, charismatic and dependable, disciplined and cutthroat, remorseless … as cold and calculated as a well-trained attack dog, or as warm and inviting as a long-time friend. All these personas existed within the commander, ready to be switched on in a single order. A chameleon, true to his craft. He’s grown accustomed to making himself whoever the world needed him to be. Anything that gets the job done.  

There was never any mistaking where Graves' thoughts lie, as more than often he'd just admit to them out loud. He accepts that others believe him to be an open book -- easy to read, with little complexity or depth beyond being a good soldier. Being lighthearted and obedient to the right people has worked wonders for him in the past, so he's mastered this façade and uses it well to his advantage. Proudly too.

But for a man so unafraid to be himself, Graves could be surprisingly secretive. 

As his second in command, you've seen firsthand the many personas your commander wore, including ones he's worn for you. Most of his tricks and plays you recognized by now, even as you've yet to understand them. Though as of late you’ve watched these many faces of his waver into something unfamiliar. They chip away slowly, each time you surrender yourself to his needs, taking your place beside him in the black of night, when no one's around to see. There, he's created a new façade, for your eyes only.

One that only made things complicated.

When you first began spending your nights together, it was more of a means to an end. It had been months since either of you had the pleasure of someone else's full attention, and lately, you were starting to notice. Shadow Company had grown more acclaimed and busy this past year, making dating pretty impossible. And after a while, anyone starts to look like a good lay if they're not ugly. Unfortunately, it didn't leave you with many options, until you'd caught the starved eye of your very own commander. 

You’d hardly been a part of Shadow Company for a month before you’d picked up on Graves' interest in you. He was surprisingly subtle with his flirting, if not predictable. It was the way his eyes lingered on you in quiet moments, his expression turned soft as his lips curved into a charming smile whenever you'd catch him. He could always spot you in a crowded room, always noticing when you were away for too long. He laughed just a little too hard at your jokes and always looked your way first after sharing one himself.

Before long, you found yourself beginning to watch him back. 

It was the little details you noticed first. The small cuts on his face from past firefights, how glossy and full of life his blue eyes looked in direct sunlight. Its rays would make a halo over his dirty blond hair, each strand looking clean enough to run your fingers through. He once caught you looking at him lick his lips, something he did often. When your eyes lifted from his mouth to see your superior officer looking dead at you, it shot a bolt of lightning through you. But you didn't look away, perhaps wanting him to see you looking. Taunting him.

Graves didn't say anything at first when he saw you ogling, but you knew he'd made a mental note of it just from the way he smirked afterward. "See something you like?"

"I see you, Commander," you'd said, hoping your glib nature would cover up the embarrassment you felt from getting caught. But Graves was like a shark in the water, and you'd just given him a taste of your blood.

"I see you too, Songbird." 

It seems all he needed was that clue that you were interested in him, because it wasn't soon after this when he decided to make his move.

You and the Commander had just finished prepping your mission brief for the other Shadow Company members. By now it was getting late in the night, as the building you two were in was a small facility only authorized personnel could enter. You occupied one of the empty rooms converted into an office space for all the pencil pushers to work out of. They’d all clocked out for the day though, leaving you two alone; and the tension in the air between you had just reached a boiling point.

You stood up from one of the tables in the room, preparing to slip into your coat and call it a night, until you watched the Commander approach you suddenly. You assumed he was getting ready to leave as well, until you noticed his come-hither nature.

��So, you got any plans tonight?”

And just like that, the game was on. You knew right away where this would go and it had your heart already skipping a beat. But you didn't want to jump to conclusions, nor did you want to rush this either. The thrill of the pursuit provided you with a nice little rush.

Wicked as you were, you began to smile.

“Why?” you ask. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I can think of a few things,” he said, behaving purposefully coy, in hopes of getting a rile out of you. He always did enjoy your banter and had no problem doing a little teasing himself when presented with the opportunity.

“Is that right?” you say flirtatiously. “Will I like those “things”, Commander?”

Graves smirks, raising an eyebrow at your comment. Hearing his title roll from your tongue so provocatively brought a sudden twinkle to his eyes. At this point, he didn’t need to guess where your mind was, which only made him more bold.

He chuckles under his breath, taking a few small steps closer, until he’s only an arm's length away. His next play.

He wasn't the tallest man you met but he still managed to tower over you by a few inches, the light from the room casting a shadow over him. This close you could smell the aftershave and cologne he’d used this morning, watching the way his eyes took in every detail of you, pupils dilating, black over-compassing the deep blue of his irises. He leans against the wall and unconsciously licks his lips again.

It was like a switch flipped in him.

“You will.”

You scoff, laughing under your breath at his boldness. You were wondering when he would be. Still, you wanted to poke at him a little more, see how long you could keep him waiting, if not to see if he was being for real. “Cocky as always.”

“Would you like me some other way then?”

You play on his words from earlier. “I can think of a few ways.”

“And what might those ways be, Songbird?”

"You're a smart boy," you hum. "I think you can figure them out. My lips are sealed, otherwise."

Graves steps even closer. He lifts a hand and pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle and surprisingly warm, gliding against you like feathers, his fingers trailing across your jawline and resting beneath your chin. Goosebumps formed where he touched, and you could tell from the doe-eyed look he had that it was doing something to him too, seeing you like this. He takes his hand beneath your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to lock eyes.

"And if I order you to say them?"

His voice was now much lower than before. Sultry. You could feel it in the air he was ready to come in closer, simply waiting for an opportunity to do so that felt right.

Butterflies shot through you like a thick swarm; you didn’t want to let on that his words had you like putty in his hands, though you feared your little lip quiver may have given it away. You instead look down at his lips again, your gaze sullied. You began thinking of all the ways you could close this space between you two and put an end to the tension. The thrill of it all had your adrenaline spiking in all the right ways, simply waiting to see where things go from this point. "Then I won’t listen," you purr.

"Insubordination is rather punishable," he said.

"So is fraternization."

"I can keep a secret." Graves brought his thumb to your lip, lightly running it across, as his eyes lowered to your mouth. He nearly says in a whisper, "Tell me what you’re thinking."

"Let me show you."

His lips slowly come down to yours, kissing you gently. When you pressed your lips back against his, he exhaled pleasurably, tongue grazing your bottom lip. He moves his hand from your chin and curls it to the back of your neck, holding you in place and continuing to tease you with short, velvety pecks. His lips danced against yours with the skill of a seasoned player, clearly experienced in his craft, but it wasn’t until he felt your hands glide against his hips and tug him closer that his kisses grew insatiable. 

His grip on the back of your neck tightened, lips pressing harder against yours, feverishly. When the sudden aggression brings a low moan from you, it only makes him push harder, his other hand grabbing the small of your back and roughly pressing himself against you.

His weight causes you to shift backward until he has your back pressed against a wall. Unknowingly, your arm bumps against a nearby filing cabinet on the way there, knocking over a few papers that now littered the floor. Mere background noise to Graves, who only continues, his arms planted on other sides of the wall around you, as his lips trailed down your neck. His kisses reach your collarbone, the sensitive sensation causing you to gasp out a moan. “Graves!”

Hearing his name be moaned out sends him on a personal mission to hear you say it more. He takes his hands and slowly runs them down your body, feeling every bit of you he can through your uniform, before resting them on your thighs. In one swift motion, he then lifts you, taking your legs and straddling them around his waist, as he keeps your back against the wall. He presses himself to you and breathes heavily, rejoining his mouth with yours.

By now you could feel him through his pants, and you pushed yourself against him in response, the grinding motion bringing quiet moans from both of you. That’s when you two suddenly hear footsteps.

At the drop of a hat, you two freeze, going completely silent. The footsteps come from outside the room -- someone walking by in the hallway. A janitor maybe? God forbid it was anyone in the company. You held your breaths for only about a minute, listening to the steps pass by the room until you couldn’t hear them any longer.

The two of you let out a shared sigh, before looking back at one another. Graves had you still pinned to the wall, your legs tucked in his arms. He can’t help but chuckle. 

“This probably ain’t the best place for this, darlin'," he spoke. "As much as I want to keep going."

“I don’t know,” you joke. “I like the vibe. It’s very risqué.”

Graves smiles at you. And then, he pauses for a moment. Suddenly his eyes can’t seem to pick a spot he wants to look at on your face. You see something in him change, gears turning in his mind. Thinking of what he might say to you now. Hiding away his vulnerabilities. It makes your own mind begin to ponder.

“See something you like?” you ask him.

“I see you.”

Graves leaned in and kissed you another time, softly. Like you’d been lovers your whole lives. That’s when you realized how truly dangerous your commander could be; for a minute there, you started daydreaming about what tomorrow could bring you both. You wanted to fall for his pretty words. But then you remembered where you were, and who you were with.

This was a game. A mutual distraction. As things stand, thinking that this could be anything else beyond a good lay was purely a fantasy. You almost just lost yourself in it.

And so it goes.

"Your place or mine?”

...Chapter Two Here!

[thesexydancingcrepe]

Modern day! Liu'er Macaque 🙊 ✨️ 💕

Liu'er is unbelievably happy to be reunited with his human 🫂 💗

Poor little carebear looks like he's been put through the ringer since Crepe last saw him. He's a little half & half little guy now ☯️

Liu'er surprisingly handled Crepe's absence a lot better than Wukong-

Wukong: IM NOT DEPRESSED! *still in pajamas at 3pm*

Liu'er: *Deadpan* sure, sure.... of course... *looks at messy room & disheveled appearance* ...of course

[wesleysniperking]

Head High | Chapter 23 excerpt (not yet published)

“Do they always do that?” Luffy asked. “Did they start doing that now?”

Usopp laughed. Just lie, Usopp. He doesn’t need to know how much of a whimp you are. You’re a burden. “That was a one time thing.”

Luffy wouldn’t let go of Usopp's hand. His eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.” He'd seen everything.

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re lying!” Luffy’s grip was hard; an iron-like (almost) death grip. “I should’ve done more than break his ribs.” He meant it. He really meant it.

“No, Luffy,” Usopp insisted, his hand started to throb. But if Luffy needed to hold his hand to not go and get into another fight. So be it. “You taught them a lesson, and I’m pretty sure they won’t be hurting me anytime soon.” Usopp laughed.

“But I didn’t notice when I should have,” Luffy said frustratedly. “I’m so stupid.”

Usopp shook his head quickly. “No, no you aren’t,” he adamantly said. “It’s not your job to protect me– “

“But you’re my friend,” Luffy insisted. “I’m not gonna stand here and do nothing.”

Maybe if Usopp really took the time to think about it, he’d finally understand that people’s definition of friendship was a lot more simple and nice than others. Why couldn’t he wrap his head around the fact that people genuinely took the idea of friendship seriously; with their full commitment? Of course, he’d never want to stop hanging out with Luffy and the others, but he didn’t have as much of a big head to think they’d want to keep him around for long. Maybe…maybe they’d start to realize he was an imposter. Or maybe Heracles was still paying them to be his friend. He’d never asked Heracles if he’d paid Nami–

“Wait,” Luffy said, even more pissed. “You don’t think I want to hang out with you?”

Usopp blanched. Was he that readable?

He could hear the bell ring in the background. Maybe that was his cue to leave. “No, it’s not like that…” He turned to walk off, but Luffy wasn’t having it. After all, he was still holding his hand.

“C’mon, talk to me.”

Usopp laughed nervously. He needed to divert his friend’s attention. “Luffy, um, if Heracles paid you and the others to be my friend…um, you can just lie to him. You don’t have to keep doing this if– “

“What the hell are you talking about?” Luffy pushed him. His facial expression was beyond angry. “Is that how you see us? Me?”

fanfic found here

Usopp fan club (join if you like)

[random-conspiracy]

Hhashahsa it brings up the worst of myself the way people are around the "modern art" thing ashahsasa.

Like, we learned absolutely nothing from Piero Manzoni. People would and WILL eat (and DEFENDE) his shit if they told 'em it's "art".

Hhahsahsha and then they wonder" Wow! Why are their prices so high?"

No, yeah! I fucking wonder if the effortless production of "art" and their obscene prices has ANY correlation. (/sarcasm)

Like come on. I'll defende their right to express themselves the way they want, but the second you see their prices it's blatantly obvious that has nothing to do with art. It's about money and fame and we're here eating their shit xd

[chericos]

If you guys saw what type of madwoman I am in my notes app you would be either crying or concerned.

(Ended up wanting to share)

😭 I act like a child in my notes app but I just like to voice my inner thoughts

Half of these were written days ago at 4am on no sleep so bear with me and my maniacal ideas

(Comment if you think I should write this)

[afandommultiverse]

CALL OF DUTY MW2 MASTERLIST

♡ ⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━ ♡ ⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━ ♡ ⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━ ♡ ⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━ ♡

Last Updated - 3.20.23

NSFW = *

Simon “GHOST” Riley

HCS

♱ General HCs *

♱ Out Drinking Lieutenant

ONESHOTS

♱ Kerosena // Coming Soon

Summary - … // Snippet

♱ Welcome To Hollywood

Summary - … // Snippet

CAPTAIN John Price

HCS

♱ General HCs

ONESHOTS

♱ Paper Pusher

Summary - when the boys return, their little leader isn’t with them; he has a habit of showing up at the best times // Snippet

♱ Bullet Burns

Summary - … // Snippet

♱ Laundry Girl

Summary - … // Snippet

König “KING” Kilgore

HCS

ONESHOTS

[sea-owl]

Daphne being a sex historian, what college would she go to? Who would she meet? Kate? Edwina? Marina?

Honestly, I haven't thought much of it beyond that one post. Sex historian Daphne would probably be my go-to career for her though in modern aus like spouses friend group.

We all have those occupations we give the characters should we stick them in the modern world, some are obvious others I've thought about. Here's some mine that I have set at the moment.

Bridgerons:

Anthony - Lawyer/CEO. Spefically, he is the heir or head of the Bridgerton group, taking it over after Edmund passed.

Benedict - Artist. It is an easy one that transfers into the modern world. I can also see him potentially doing things like graphic design.

Colin - Travel writer. Another easy one, and I think he would go a step further and do either a blog or travel app.

Daphne - Sex historian. This one took some thought, at first I thought Daphne would run one of those mommy blogs but then I paused and remembered that Daphne didn't get married until she was 21 in the books and girl would probably want something for herself outside her marriage and family. Since discovering her sexuality was such a prominent thing in her story, I thought ok how to potentially transfer this into a modern world? Well, Daphne, in the books, said if she was curious about something, she looked it up herself and Violet was bad about explaining sex so it kinda became Daphne became curious and somehow turned it into a career.

Eloise - Psychiatrist or something in the psychiatric field. This stems from Eloise's interest in the humanities in the books. It's also something I see her getting into in college. I see her going into gender studies at first, with her current what she thinks is femenism ideolgy, but then she gets humbled in university, and it causes her to change over to psychology.

Francesca - Music. Francesca is the one I'm most on the fence about, but her professionally doing music is a nice option for her.

Spouses:

Simon - Lawyer/Engineer. So originally, I went with a lawyer because it matched Anthony and the whole house of lords thing with Simon being a Duke. Then I remembered Simon actually likes math and would probably fit well as an engineer. I want to say he started as an engineer and because law school doesn't care what your bachelor's was when he went (forced to go) he became a lawyer after.

Kate - Vet. I debated before settling on vet, at first I thought to make her a business rival to Anthony but then thought about the way she calmed Anthony down in the show, and at one point I believe they said something close to her being good with animals. So vet she became, plus with this she can take Newton to work with her.

Sophie - Tattoo artist. This was a debatable one, too. What eventually led me to tattoo artist was that Sophie wouldn't need much in a college education. If she's good at art and finds a willing tattoo artist to take her on as an apprentice, Sophie has the ability to make herself a career.

Penelope - Writer. Again, it's an easy one. I like to believe she does copywriting and an author.

Phillip - Bontanist. Why would I separate Plant daddy from his plants?

Michael - Night Club owner. I picture Michael starting in the army just as he did in the books, and then when he got back, he went well shit what do I do now? Goes back to school and decides fuck it I'm gonna open a night club. His charismatic ways are very helpful in his business endeavors.

Gregory, Hyacinth, Gareth, and Lucy I'm still playing with on what I would want their occupations to be.

[tefmiles]

sometimes i like to think that the night vale in the US in our world is one of the split night vales from huntokar that never actually survived from the nuclear war, and that the cecil we hear is just old recordings that somehow still broadcast from years and years ago.